


Drinking with the Moon

by RosalindInPants



Series: Children Being Nosy [2]
Category: The Great Library Series - Rachel Caine
Genre: Drinking, Gen, Insomnia, Poetry, Trolling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-28
Updated: 2019-04-28
Packaged: 2020-01-24 13:30:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18572464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RosalindInPants/pseuds/RosalindInPants
Summary: Set during Ash and Quill, during the construction of the printing press at the Brightwell family's castle. Unable to sleep, Wolfe and Dario find themselves drinking together late in the night, and the conversation turns to marriage.





	Drinking with the Moon

Wolfe finished writing and dropped the notebook onto the table with enough of a thump to make the wine ripple in his glass. "This, Santiago, is why you ought to learn Chinese." He picked up the wine and leaned back in his chair as he took a sip. It was awful stuff, the dregs of the Brightwell family's wine cellars, but it was better than being sober.

Dario seemed to agree, and topped off his glass before picking up the notebook to read. "Drinking Alone with the Moon? Not exactly my idea of a good time."

"Isn't it? Why, then, did I find you doing exactly that?" This, Wolfe thought, was why he should have stayed in bed with Santi and tried to sleep instead of getting up in search of wine. Except that if he could sleep without wine, he would be asleep already, not sitting in an overstuffed chair in the Brightwell castle's overdecorated excuse for a reading room with the only other person insane enough to be up at this hour: Dario Santiago. His former student and probably the last person he would be drinking with if he had a choice in the matter. He would much have preferred the moon, a silvery crescent that seemed to be winking at him through one of the room's tall windows. Scholar Li Bai had the right idea, as far as Wolfe was concerned.

Dario held up a finger to indicate that he was too busy reading to respond. Good, he might actually learn something. Wolfe picked up the Blank in which he had loaded the original Chinese text and read the poem in question again while he sipped his wine. He knew his quick translation hadn't done it justice, but the better one he had written years ago was gone along with all of his journals and scholarly work. A trivial thing, in light of all he had lost, but still a loss he felt keenly as he read the Chinese words and tried to remember how he had captured their shades of meaning and haunting beauty in Greek.

"That was... not bad. Deep, even," Dario said at last. "And there isn't a translation on the Codex?"

Wolfe rolled his eyes. "If you like old, overwrought garbage that misinterprets the original text, there is. I would recommend sparing yourself the misery of it. The translations of Sun Tzu and Lao Tzu aren't much better, by the way. Chinese really is a language any self-respecting Scholar should learn."

"That may be, but I doubt we're in any danger of being self-respecting Scholars again anytime soon, so you'll forgive me if I don't jump right into it." Dario tossed back the rest of his wine, refilled his glass, and reached over the table to top Wolfe's off as well. The jug was nearly empty, but there were two more lined up on the table. "Besides, I already have my next language lined up. Chinese will have to wait."

Though he suspected he knew the answer, Wolfe asked, "And which language is that?"

Dario grinned as he replied, "Arabic, of course." Another excellent choice for a Scholar, not that Dario would be picking it for that reason. No, Dario would have a more personal reason to put in the effort of learning another language.

"Looking to make an impression on your 'desert flower,' then?" He almost smiled, but caught himself and took another sip of wine instead. He remembered learning Italian around two decades ago for similar cause.

Dario snorted. "I've already made an impression, in case you hadn't noticed. It's her family I'm going to need to impress. I'm asking her to marry me." He sounded downright emotional as he said it, almost choked up, his eyes shining with love. Or maybe that was just the wine talking. There could be considerable overlap between the two.

Wolfe took a long drink. "Well, I wish you all the luck you'll need with that endeavor." He looked out the window again and took another drink. A thin wisp of cloud was drifting across the moon. A poetic image, though he wasn't yet drunk enough to attempt to describe it in verse.

"You don't approve?" Dario asked, still sounding more earnest than he had any business being. What had happened to the flirtatious young fool from his postulant class? Lost somewhere between the ruins of Oxford and the devastation of Philadelphia, neither a place such a child could have survived unscathed. 

"Of rushing into a lifelong commitment when you're barely grown? I can only hope Khalila has more sense than you." He drained his glass, refilled it with the remains of the jug. He was drinking too fast, and he didn't much care. His goal, after all, was to drink himself to sleep. Preferably before hearing too much more than he wanted to know about the children's romantic attachments.

Dario leaned forward, elbows on the table, eyes fixed on Wolfe in what seemed to be a drunken imitation of Wolfe's own intimidating stare. "And here I thought you, of all people, would sympathize. Haven't you and Captain Santi been together since you were our age? Why can't you believe Khalila and I might last as long?"

"And yet, if you are looking to Nic and I as an example, you are apparently missing a very significant detail: we are not married." He held up first one hand, then the other for emphasis, fingers spread to display the absence of a ring. Not that they necessarily would have worn rings, even if they'd married. People who wore rings in combat were at risk of losing fingers.

Apparently unable to mind his own damned business, Dario went on, "And why is that? You're obviously committed to each other."

That wasn't a question that deserved a serious answer. The boy was poking at a sensitive spot now, whether he knew it or not, and Wolfe didn't have to feign irritation as he asked, "How would you know? Nic and I might, between the two of us, be bedding half of Alexandria when we aren't busy being held hostage and running for our lives."

"Do you really think I'm that stupid? You live together -"

"Saves on housing costs."

Dario groaned and turned his attention to his wine, letting Wolfe hope for the minute it took him to finish the glass that he might be done with his needling. And then he set the glass down and started up again while he opened the next jug and poured. "So all that in Philadelphia was, what, you were worried that he might miss a rent payment if he died? If you're going to lie to me, at least try to be convincing." The glass filled, he settled back into his chair, watching Wolfe over the rim of it as he took a sip.

That sounded like a challenge. "Fine. I suppose I may as well tell you the truth. We can never marry because Nic is already married. Fell head over heels in love with a girl when he was fifteen, married her before he left for Alexandria. She's very religious, so being divorced or having the marriage annulled would devastate her, and Nic hasn't the heart to do it." Wolfe watched Dario's face as he spoke; there was some doubt there, but the boy didn't look entirely unconvinced, so he couldn't resist adding, "That, and an annulment would make the children bastards."

Dario burst out laughing, head down on the table and sides shaking with the sort of mirth that demonstrated just how intoxicated he was. When, after two tries, he at last recovered his composure, he raised his glass. "Well done," he said, "Well done. You might have had me if you hadn't gone and added children. There is no way Captain Santi has children. He couldn't have kept quiet about it if he did. He'd be the sort of devoted father who would always brag about his children." He sounded very certain about that last part, leaning over the table to wag an accusatory finger in Wolfe's direction, his face reddening with wine and conviction.

Typical of Dario, to have the facts so accurate and yet miss the nuance. True, there had never been children in the more conventional sense, but Wolfe could see perfectly well how Santi looked at Glain like she was the daughter he never knew he wanted. How he sacrificed everything he had spent his life working for, not only for Wolfe, but also for Thomas. For all of them. Even Dario. Oh, he and Nic had children now, and they were both perfectly capable of keeping quiet about it. Wolfe smiled into his glass at the thought.

"Well? Got another lie for me? Or do I get an honest answer?" Dario asked, shaking Wolfe from his thoughts.

Wolfe sighed. Naturally, he'd ended up with  _persistent_  children. "If you must know, Nic wants a church wedding," he said, as if that explained everything. Whatever response he got, it would be revealing.

"And you don't?" Dario considered his glass for a moment, apparently decided it wasn't full enough, and topped it off. "That's not a real problem. Do one ceremony in your temple, one in his church, throw a party somewhere neutral after." His speech was starting to slur. He slid the jug across the table to Wolfe. "Get better wine for your party than this."

So he  _had_  thought things through at least as far as the wedding. Not a completely hopeless romantic, then. Wolfe downed the last sip in his glass, then refilled it, wrinkling his nose at the sticky-sweet scent of the white in this new jug. It made him a bit queasy, but not enough to keep him from drinking it. "That wouldn't take much.  _Vinegar_  would be better than this. I, however, will not be throwing any parties. _You_ are the one apparently eager to bear that particular burden."

Dario reclined in his chair, sloshing wine from his overly full glass onto his shirt as he did. He didn't seem to notice or care. "You'll come, won't you? You and Captain Santi?" He looked at Wolfe with puppy-like hope while he took a sip from his glass. Before Wolfe could think of a suitable answer, Dario went on, "I was hoping you might give a toast for us. Or maybe officiate? Can Scholars officiate in Alexandria? Or High Garda officers? I should look that up..." He fumbled for the Blank on the table, spilling more of his wine onto the Brightwells' fake Persian rug.

Wolfe cleared his throat and nudged the book closer to Dario. "I am truly honored that you would think to invite us..." he began, his mind racing to come up with his response even as he spoke. He'd managed to marinate his brain sufficiently that the words were slow to come.

"Invite us to what?" Niccolo Santi was a sight for sore eyes, even dressed in the rather hideous flannel robe that the Brightwells had provided. It was a bit short on him, giving Wolfe a glimpse of strong calf muscles above his slippered feet.

"My wedding!" Dario proclaimed. "You'll come, won't you, sir?"

Santi glanced at Wolfe with an eyebrow raised. Wolfe shrugged. Santi strode over to the table and plucked the glass from Dario's hand. "I think you've had enough to drink for one night, Santiago. Come on, up you get, and let's get you to bed." He offered a hand to Dario while looking across the table at Wolfe. He gave a little jerk of his chin toward the boy as he stumbled to his feet.

Wolfe shook his head, feeling dizzy even as he did. With the wine's effects kicking in, he wouldn't be of any help in getting his former student up the stairs. Santi gave Wolfe a narrow-eyed look and slipped an arm beneath Dario's shoulders to guide him toward the door.

"You," Dario said, looking over his shoulder at Wolfe and sounding far too accusatory for a boy having trouble walking straight, "Are evading my question. Will. You. Come. To. Our. Wedding?"

"A bit premature to be issuing invitations, isn't it?" Wolfe said at the same time as Santi said, "Yes, of course we'll be there." Wolfe glared at the back of his lover's head. "He hasn't even proposed yet, Nic."

Santi chuckled. "Consider our acceptance contingent on Seif's, then."

As soon as Santi and Dario were out of the room, Wolfe downed his glass of wine and reached for Dario's. He wasn't one to waste perfectly good, or even perfectly awful, wine. He raised the glass to the moon beyond the window in imitation of Scholar Li Bai's poem, took a sip, and set the glass down to reach for the Blank. Might as well read the poem while he was mimicking its action. He'd read it through twice and thought of as many improvements to his hastily written translation by the time Santi returned.

Santi offered him a hand, and he took it to pull himself to unsteady feet. Seeing the unspoken question in his lover's eyes, Wolfe shook his head. "Nothing to worry about, Nic. I just needed a little wine to get back to sleep."

"Come on, then," Santi said, offering his arm. "That huge, soft bed is lonely without you."

Leaning on the man he loved, Wolfe left the moon and the wine and the poetry behind, ready at last to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Wolfe can read Chinese, therefore I say he is a fan of Li Bai. Tell me he wouldn't love this stuff: http://www.shigeku.org/xlib/lingshidao/hanshi/libai.htm


End file.
